


Sounding Off

by janescott



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-24
Updated: 2010-06-24
Packaged: 2017-10-10 06:16:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/96515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janescott/pseuds/janescott
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From the teamlambliff kink meme prompt: Sounding: Adam comes home early from somewhere, and Tommy is sounding. Tommy is obviously embarrassed about being caught doing something so taboo. Adam is curious, so Tommy lets him watch. Adam REALLY enjoys the show.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sounding Off

**Author's Note:**

> NB: sounding is where a person inserts a rod into the urethra. If you're easily squicked ...  
> Nothing herein belongs to me.

Tommy is methodical about certain things. His guitars; his bass guitars. These he keeps tuned, and in their cases when he's not performing.

His CDs and his precious but small collection of vinyl records. Those are in order; precise and tidy even though the rest of his room looks like a hurricane: clothes everywhere, his dresser a mess of half-used deodorant sticks, what he calls "shit for his hair" and eyeliners worn down to the nub.

He's _very_ methodical about one thing in particular, and when he realises he's going to have the house to himself for several hours – no roommates around; no place in particular he needs to be ... Tommy throws the dishes in the dishwasher, ignoring the rest of the kitchen, which looks like some kind of weird post-modern art installation (really fucking messy) and heads for his own room,   
digging his kit out from the back of his top dresser drawer, and taking it into the bathroom, laying it on the counter.

Tommy pauses and looks around, sighing a little before digging cleaning supplies out of the cupboard under the bathroom sink. He doesn't need to clean the bathroom to do this, but does it anyway, quickly and thoroughly.

He washes his hands, eyeing his kit, but he's half-hard already just thinking about it, which isn't the best way to start, so he turns the shower on, stripping his clothes quickly and stepping under the spray. Tommy strokes his cock idly at first, bringing up a host of mental images to help him get hard, the water warm and welcome on his back.

His first girlfriend in high school. Nope. His first blow job in college, at some fucking frat party, locked in a bathroom; the guy's mouth sloppy and desperate ... better. Yeah. He groans a little bit as his cock swells in his hand, feeling heavy and full, the water scattering and spraying around him.

Vicki. Oh, God. He rests a hand on the wall of the small shower stall as he beings stroking faster. Vicki: pretty, all-American girl on the outside – all long brown hair, blue eyes and perfect teeth. Behind closed doors ... the kinkiest person Tommy has _ever_ been with. He tightens his grip and bites down on his bottom lip, smearing his calloused thumb over the tip when it starts leaking.

Vicki had put him on to this in the first place, practically fucking _daring_ him to try it. First time wasn't so good, but after that ... fuck. Tommy's fingers scrabble on the wall as he comes, his breath short, panting gasps now.

He cleans up and switches the shower off, slipping into rubbed-smooth sweat pants, scrubbing his hands in the sink and studying his face in the mirror. It's not vanity; it never is. Tommy considers his face objectively, like always, and all he thinks – taking in the dark eyes; long lashes; shadows and hollows – is that he looks tired. He pulls a face at himself and dries off his hands, before opening his kit, which really just contains three slim, slightly curved pieces of metal.

Humming some vague tune that's been plaguing the back of his mind for days, Tommy picks up one of the sounds, running his finger along the length, smooth and cold under his fingers.

He sterilises it, fetches his bottle of lube out of his nightstand and kicks his pants off, settling back against his pillow and popping the cap off the lube. Tommy carefully slicks the tube with the slippery liquid, covering it thoroughly. He sits back, feeling the cool cotton of the pillow warming against his back as he picks up the sound, grasping the base of his flaccid dick with his other hand.

Tommy takes a deep breath and lines the sound up with the head, sliding his hand up and pushing the first inch in, slowly. It's been a while since he's done this – since he's been _able_ to do this, and it feels like an intrusion at first. Not painful; he's moving slowly, but strange. He resettles his legs carefully on the bed, sliding another inch of metal in, feeling it slick and starting to warm up as he lets gravity do some of the work for him, pushing it further and further in, as he gently grips his cock with his other hand, stroking slowly and feeling the sound from both sides.

He lets out a small, almost pained noise as the sound slips further in, and his cock hardens in his hand, hot and slick. Tommy tips his head back for a second, taking another breath in and processing the sensations as he carefully slips the sound nearly all the way out before sliding it back down again; slow and deliberate, zoning out a little bit as he slides it in and out, finding a sweet rhythm that reminds him of the song he's had stuck in his head for so long.

He hears the hitch in his breath and feels the coil low in his gut that means he's close, when he hears the front door open, and freezes in the act of pulling the sound out. Oh, fuck – if it's one of his room-mates ... "Tommy? You home? Your door is ... open."

Adam's voice fades away as he takes in the sight before him, and Tommy wonders if maybe _just this once, universe_ the ground could open up and swallow him whole.

"What are you – you're -"

Tommy watches, the sound still in his cock – which is still hard – as Adam clamps his mouth down on his words, and watching Adam's mouth right now is really not helping. "You gonna sell tickets or sit down?" Tommy manages to say, giving his cock a little squeeze and meeting Adam's gaze.

"I – uh – Jesus, Tommy!" And Adam's voice sounds ... strange. Tommy studies his face and catches a fleeting glimpse of something that looks very close to _I want_ and he has to grasp the base of his dick a little harder as he pulls the sound nearly all the way out, not taking his eyes off Adam's face.

"Want to see?" Tommy asks, his voice challenging. And this – this is way, way further than they've ever gone. Hell, up until this point they've mostly been friends. Mostly. But it's a hell of a step from mostly friends to 'hey look, I'm sounding, want to watch?'

Still, the look on Adam's face ... without looking away, Tommy slides the sound in again, slowly and deliberately, sliding his other hand down to cup his balls – tight against his body now, his lips parting on a little moan as he works it further in, his head tipping back as he slides it up and down, catching his bottom lip with his teeth and biting down hard.

"I need to -" he gets out, his voice tight and needy. He's panting slightly as he pulls the sound out altogether, moaning a little at the loss of contact with the slim metal rod, grasping his dick and stroking it hard, tipping his head back and shutting his eyes, his legs shifting on the bed as he arches his hips, a low groan escaping him as he comes.

Tommy blinks his eyes open, his heart racing and his breath coming fast. He sucks in a draft of air, and just – stares. Adam's sitting on the end of the bed, his jeans open, stroking his cock – hard and fucking huge, as Adam's hand begins moving faster his eyes shifting from Tommy – sprawled out sated against the headboard – and the used sound on the bed beside him.

"Oh, fuck, Adam ... " Tommy manages, his voice sounding weak, his eyes glued to Adam's hard, leaking, gorgeous fucking ... "Let me, let me," Tommy says suddenly, scrambling off the bed and dropping to his knees between Adam's legs, grasping the base of his cock. Even as Adam says "Tommy ... you don't have -" he takes his hand away and pushes his fingers through Tommy's fringe instead as Tommy swallows as much of Adam's cock as he can, moaning at the feel of the hard weight that's so heavy and so _good_ on his tongue. He slides his mouth back up and swallows back down again – Adam had been close before and it's not long before his hand is tangled in Tommy's hair; tugging on it as he comes, spilling hot and silent down Tommy's throat.

Tommy works at swallowing as much of it as he can, but it's not just sounding he's out of practice with, and he has to pull back to breathe, rocking back on his heels as he wipes at his mouth. Adam's eyes are wild above him, and he's bitten through his bottom lip, a tiny streak of red smudging the corner of his mouth.

He pulls Tommy to his feet and they both collapse on the bed, Adam's clothes rubbing against Tommy's overheated skin as they kiss hard and filthy; the slightly iron taste of Adam's blood mingling in Tommy's mouth with the salt taste of his come and all he can do is shove Adam's shirt up as far as he can, his fingers sliding over smooth skin.

"So," Adam says a few breathless, filthy and glorious moments later, "Sounding, huh?. Tell me about it."


End file.
